Christian's Tale
by lener
Summary: Christian's story, about his childhood and his life before he went to the Moulin Rouge... and how he met Satine.
1. Tragedy

Christian's Story

Christian's Tale 

Disclaimer: I don't own Moulin Rouge or the characters in it. But some characters in this story are of my own creation. 

Author's Note: This is a story about Christian in Moulin Rouge. It begins from his birth, goes into his childhood and teens, where he develops interest in writing, and finally into his adulthood. This is a 'brother' fic to my fellow author Dauphin's fic entitled 'Satine's Tale'. If you haven't read it (which I seriously doubt because Dauphin is such a popular author), go read it now! 

Not much is known about Christian in Moulin Rouge the movie so I'm making up things as I go along.

Oh yes, and I didn't exactly know what color eyes Christian had so I just made him have mint green eyes. Hope there won't be any violent objections or something.

The man plain brown coat cuddled the tiny little bundle of life in his arms. Small though it was, he could still feel the little baby inside the bundle radiating life, kicking his chubby little legs and closing his tiny fists. 

"Mister Hardling," the man looked up at the short, bespectacled and balding doctor standing in front of him.

"What's the matter now," the man asked, not in the least bit worried. Now that his wife had given birth to their first child, nothing else could diminish the joy he felt. He was elated! Yes, for the first time in his life there was something he could look forward to. No more sleepless nights, no more tiring accounting, no more countless hours spent arguing over business deals! Now there was just the peace and happiness in waking up every morning to see his beloved son…

"Mister Hardling. Your wife… she… didn't… couldn't… she's… gone," the doctor finished lamely, staring down at his toes. George Richard Hardling almost dropped the bundle of life he was carrying. He felt as though the energy had been sucked out of his whole body, and for a while he felt empty and lifeless. But soon his strength came back, but it wasn't the same, and would never be. For now George Richard Hardling was filled with sorrow, despair, hurt and anger. 

"I… I… need to sit down…" Mr. Hardling stammered, and reached out to grip the sides of a chair nearby, almost forgetting that he was holding his baby boy in his hands. "Mister Hardling!" shouted the doctor, and quickly seized the bundle before it crashed to the floor. Then the doctor handed the baby back to its father with a worried look on his face. "Don't you want to know how your wife died? Where do you want her buried? Do you want to say anything to her?" the doctor pressed on with his questions. 

George Richard Hardling cast a smoldering glance at the doctor. "Doctor… what's the use of that? She's gone… forever. I can't… bring myself to accept that fact. There will be no funeral. She will be buried in the graveyard behind Kellingston Church," he said with finality.

The doctor, still persistent, argued, "But Mr. Hardling! What about the child?! He should at least take a look at his mother!" But George Richard Hardling would hear no more of the doctor's word. 

" I SAID! THERE WILL BE NO FUNERAL. MY WORD IS FINAL." And with that unexpected outburst of rage, Mr. Hardling stood up, cradling his son protectively against his chest, as if afraid to lose yet another loved one, and walked indignantly out of the hospital, leaving a mortified doctor standing alone in the hospital corridor.

George Richard Hardling got into the sleek black carriage that was waiting for him. As soon as he shut the door the man whipped the horse and the carriage began to move. George Richard's eyes traveled down to his son, and studied his son. Strands of soft coffee brown hair shrouded a small face. But what was most striking were the mint green eyes, which were now closed in deep slumber. 

And it was then that George Richard Hardling made the promise of his lifetime. There, in the small cushioned compartment of the black carriage riding bumpily through the bustling London town, George Richard Hardling vowed that he would look after his motherless child as best as he could. 

Then Mr. Hardling realized something. His son had no name! Mr. Hardling recalled the weeks when his wife was alive, and he remembered what she had said… "…Christian is the perfect name. It's pure and decent for our child…" Mr. Hardling had then asked his wife what would happen if their child turned out to be a girl. Mrs. Hardling, however, laughed and shook her head. "I'm certain it's going to be a boy," she had said. Lily Eleanor Hardling always had a knack for these sorts of things.

And so, George Richard Hardling's son was called Christian.

This is the story of his childhood. And what happens when he is grown up. 

Note: ARGH!! This probably sucks!!!! A little bit of my friend Dauphin is beginning to rub off on me. 


	2. First Poem

Christian's Tale

Christian's Tale 

Thanks to all those who reviewed the first chapter of Christian's Tale! Hope you like the next chapter.

Chapter 2: First Poem

"Father! Look what I've got!" a small figure brushed past the great wooden doors of Mr. Hardling's study and launched itself onto his lap.

Startled, Mr. Hardling looked up to see Christian, his son, sitting on his lap brandishing a tattered paper. Mr. Hardling glanced lovingly at his son, but then noticed that Christian was dressed in a crisp white shirt and had his brown overalls on. Mr. Hardling's look of love turned to one of disapproval. He always insisted on Christian wearing his smart black hat and matching suit wherever he went, but his son would always turn up in those dirty overalls of his.

"Father?" 

George Richard Hardling was jolted back to reality. He patted his three-year-old's head and took the paper gently from Christian's fist. There were neat lines of Christian's handwriting on the paper, and Mr. Hardling put on his reading glasses to get a closer look at the words his gifted son had written. 

_Love by Christian Hardling _it read

_What is love?_

_Love is oxygen_

_Love is a many splendored thing _

_Love lifts you up where you belong!_

_All you need is Love! _

_ _

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return..._

_ _

__Mr. Hardling felt as though ice were running through his veins instead of blood. He wanted Christian to be a successful businessman and take after his father, not a pathetic poet! 

"Haven't I told you, time and time again, not to waste your precious time composing useless poems on… on… Love?!" he burst out, slamming the paper onto his desk. Business documents and pens clattered to the floor noisily. 

Christian, terrified, sprang from his father's lap. 

"And where's that document which I asked you to read?" his father continued in a sharp voice. 

Christian stared down at his bare toes. "It… was… to profound for me," he said simply. Then, gaining confidence, he looked up at his father. "I could not understand those business terms. I want to write my poems," he added.

Mr. Hardling's face turned a crimson red, then scarlet purple. He snatched up the poem and held it in front of his son's face. "Here's what I think of your ridiculous poems!" he bellowed out, and ripped Christian's poem into half. Christian watched, tears welling up in his eyes. His precious poem – the one that he'd spent almost his whole life working on – was torn before his very eyes. 

His heart pounding, Christian snatched up the pieces of his poem, defiantly sticking out his tongue at his father. "You don't know Love because you've never loved someone with all your heart! The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return. But you'll never learn that, because you're heartless!" he shouted, and rushed out of the room, tears streaming at full force down his pale face.

Christian burst into his room and flung himself down on his comfortable bed. It was the only thing in his room that could offer him solace and comfort. But Christian was not going to cry. He didn't want to be a baby and cry out loud. He was strong inside, he knew it himself. Christian sniffed. 

He didn't want to be a businessman like his father. His father was cut out for that kind of work, but he wasn't. He wanted to frolic around in the green fields, paper and pen in his hand, waiting for the inspiration to come. He wanted to sit peacefully at the top of the tallest tower in the world, watch the beautiful sunset and dream of the best setting for his latest story. He wanted to travel the whole world, to see, to feel, to write, to dream, to love…

Then Christian made up his mind. He would go to Julia. She would help him. She always did. 

George Richard Hardling watched as his son burst out of his study in tears. At last there would be peace and quiet. 

George knew that he might have been a little bit harsh with his son, but what could he do? His son didn't even have a mother to comfort him. George settled back down to his paperwork, retrieving some important documents from the floor. As he bent down, a letter addressed to 'George Richard Hardling' caught his eye. 

He scanned the letter and as he read it, he smiled. 

A former business partner of his was celebrating the third birthday of his daughter, and wished to invite Mr. Hardling and his son along to the celebration. Then his daughter and Christian could meet each other while their fathers discussed business deals. And perhaps betrothal deals as well…


	3. First Encounters

Christian's Tale

Christian's Tale 

Author's Note: Thanks to all the people who reviewed Christian's Tale! I know it's hard for you to believe Christian wrote that wonderful poem at age three. So I will give you two options: 1) You can pretend that Christian is a genius and wrote that at age three. 2) You can forget about Christian being a three-year-old and think of him as a five-year-old instead. I think I'll go for option number 2, won't you? Anyway, I'll just make him five now instead of three. 

Six months after the death of Lily Eleanor Hardling, George got in touch with his wife's best friend, Julia Spar. Julia was 30, and she had known Lily Eleanor Hardling since they were ten years old. Lily and Julia were very close, and when Julia heard of Lily's death and the little son she left behind, Julia immediately accepted the task of looking after Christian. 

Julia was like a mother to Christian. She loved Christian with all her heart and soul, and would always give him treats of some kind. In return, Christian loved Julia very much. He knew she wasn't his mother, and that his mother was the pretty woman with the curly brown hair whose picture was hung in the hall and in his room, but Christian loved Julia all the same. She was the only one who loved him dearly. All Christian's father cared about was his business deals and how successful Christian would be when he grew up. Christian never got any love from his father, and that was why Christian grew up with the mentality that his father was heartless. 

But luckily for Christian, he had Julia's unconditional love, which he treasured very much. And that was why Christian felt that Love was the most important thing in the whole wide world, for without Love, he wouldn't be himself. 

Today, Julia was getting Christian ready for his Big Day. It was the birthday of Elisabeth, George Richard Hardling's business partner's daughter. 

Julia was bustling about Christian's spacious room, getting various shirts, trousers, hats and jackets from the drawers along the whole length of the room. Christian was standing glumly on his bed, reluctantly trying on the clothes Julia handed to him. At the age of five, Christian's brown hair had already grown rapidly, and some of the strands of hair flopped over his piercing mint green eyes. Christian didn't take any notice of the compliments that people they met in the streets gave him, but Julia did. And she was proud. Proud of Christian and proud of her best friend Lily Eleanor for bringing such a wonderful boy into the world. 

Christian was reciting the poem that he had written over and over again out loud; hoping that Julia would praise him like she had did on the day of his father's outburst, but Julia was dumping suits and other clothes onto the bed. 

"_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return_!!!" Christian suddenly burst out in song, his voice perfectly in tune to a melody he'd made up on the spot. 

Julia stopped short and stared at Christian. Then she started laughing. "Where did that come from?" she asked, and picked the little boy up. "I don't know! _The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return_!" he burst out again in song, with a cute little cheeky grin on his face. Julia laughed again and twirled him around and around the room. "Ahaha! My little boy is a singer! And a poet!" she cried happily, and spun around the room with a joyous little Christian. 

"Julia! Father told me that you used to teach singing! And that you sang most beautifully! Tell me all about it!" Christian said, settling himself back on the bed. And for that brief moment, Julia's eyes took on a dreamy look, as if she was thinking of a far away land, where her dreams took flight and turned into reality. 

"Well Christian, I went to France at a very young age, 19, if you can imagine it. I taught a gorgeous French woman singing, and she was wonderful at it. She and I used to sing duets with each other. I taught her for 6 years! That's a very long time, Christian. Finally…" Julia paused, and snapped back to reality. "You're late! And you're not even dressed yet! Come along now and pull on this shirt! I'm sure you'll look handsome in it!" Julia snatched up a soft white shirt and Christian slipped it on easily. 

He fingered the material – so different from the coarse overalls he usually wore. "Julia! This is so soft! Amazing! What is it?" he asked, feeling the shirt slip through his grasp. Julia smiled and handed him the black pants she'd gotten ready. "It's satin, Christian. It's called satin," she told him. 

"Satin…" he whispered. "Beautiful!" he smiled, and looked up at Julia proudly. Julia laughed and helped him into the black vest. "Now hurry along to your Father! He must be waiting! Hurry along now, Christian!" and she gave Christian a little push, to emphasize her point. 

Christian sighed and looked up at Julia. "Julia… do I have to?" he asked miserably, and sniffed. Julia looked down at Christian's sad face and gave him a bear hug, but deep inside she felt as though her heart was breaking. She could not bear to see Christian like this! "Go, Christian! I'll be right here waiting for you when you get back!" she said, and smiled encouragingly, and watched as the little boy ran out of the room.

Christian and his father stepped out of the black carriage and into the noisy, bustling train station. Christian tightened his grip on his shirt and peered about the place from behind his father's long brown coat. "Come along now, Christian. I've got to get us tickets to Manchester. You stay close to me, do you understand? Don't get lost in the crowd," his father's deep voice came to his ears. 

Christian nodded, only half listening. He was enthralled by the different people everywhere. Some were sitting on benches reading newspapers, others were standing around in groups talking and some were looking at notices and boards. Christian followed his father to the ticket booth, where they had to queue up at the end of the long line, and as the seconds passed ever so slowly, Christian's eyes began to wander about. His sharp ears were faster, however, and caught the faint, enchanting strains of a lovely song. 

Christian quickly turned his head, hoping to catch a glimpse of where the beautiful sound was coming from. He saw a woman with blond dreadlocks, wearing a dirty brown coat concealing a fanciful dancing dress. Next to the woman sat a young girl, probably as old as Christian himself. The young girl, like Christian, was absorbed in the song the woman was singing. She had large, beautiful eyes shrouded by long eyelashes and soft red curls cascaded down her shoulders. 

The girl turned her head in Christian's direction and their eyes met. Both young children studied each other inquisitively for some time. Then slowly, the girl's features softened into a tentative yet warm smile. Christian stared back with wide-open eyes. But before his reflexes could be registered, the woman, who had stopped singing, got up and began to gather her belongings, getting ready to leave. She took the girl's hand gently. 

"Come now, Satine, we must hurry or we'll miss the train to Paris," she explained lovingly to the little girl. The little girl turned to look at Christian one more time, but as much as Christian wanted to return her sweet smile, he was struck by the mention of her name. 

_Satin? _He thought, and instinctively looked down and fingered his shirt. _What a pretty name… _

He looked back up; finally able to return the smile, but the girl and the woman were gone. 


End file.
